Chapter 9

They took me back to my new, sterile apartment. They hovered, their apologies a meaningless buzz in my ears.

"Are you okay, Azalea?"

"We're so sorry."

"Alexander is a monster."

I didn't respond. I walked into my bedroom and closed the door, shutting them out. The next day, they were back, knocking on my door, their faces etched with concern.

"We need to talk about the announcement," Alaric said, his tone serious. "You can't seriously be thinking of choosing Darrian."

"It has to be Alexander," Darrius insisted. "For the good of both our families."

I looked at their faces, these handsome, privileged boys who had participated in my torture, and I felt nothing but contempt.

"My decision is final," I said, my voice as cold and hard as the city pavement.

They still didn't get it. They thought I was posturing, that my love for Alexander was a force of nature that would inevitably pull me back into his orbit.

He came himself a few hours later. He stood in my doorway, looking handsome and confidant, as if the horrific events of the previous day had never happened.

"Have you come to your senses yet?" he asked, his voice smooth and condescending. "Are you ready to be a good girl and do what's expected of you?"

"Get out," I said.

He actually looked surprised. The invincible Alexander Booth was not used to being rejected. "You're still choosing that brute Darrian over me? After everything I've done for you?"

The sheer audacity of his words almost made me laugh. "Yes," I said. "Now get out of my apartment."

He stared at me for a long moment, a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. He shook his head and left, still convinced his blackmail gave him the ultimate power.

I sank onto the sofa, the exhaustion hitting me like a physical blow. The fight was draining me, but I couldn't give up. Not now.

My phone rang. It was my mother.

"The party is tonight, Azalea," she said, her voice strained. "Everyone will be there. Darrian flew in this morning. He will be in attendance."

My heart gave a small leap. He was here.

"Please, Azalea," my mother begged. "Don't do anything rash. Think of our family's reputation."

"I've made my choice, Mother," I said, and hung up.

The ballroom was a sea of glittering jewels and fake smiles. It was the social event of the season, my 22nd birthday party, the night the heiress to the Kidd real estate empire would choose her king.

I made my entrance in a simple, elegant white dress. It was a statement. I was a blank slate, a new beginning. I was not the girl they thought they knew.

Every head turned. A hush fell over the room. I was a ghost at my own party, a survivor of rumors and scandals.

Alaric, Darrius, and Jefferey were on me in an instant, their compliments as hollow as their hearts.

"You look breathtaking, Azalea."

"White is your color."

Suddenly, the crowd parted. A wave of silence spread from the entrance.

Alexander had arrived. And on his arm was Isolde.

She was wearing the midnight blue dress. My dress. The one they had stripped from my body.

The collective gasp was audible. It was a calculated, brutal act of humiliation. She was wearing my stolen armor, a trophy of her victory over me.

The crowd stared, whispering, their eyes darting between me and her. It was a scandal, a drama playing out for their entertainment.

Alaric, Darrius, and Jefferey melted away, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. They abandoned me, as always.

I felt a familiar weight in my chest, the phantom pain of my public shaming.

Alexander strode towards me, his face a mask of triumph. "See, Azalea?" he whispered, his voice a venomous caress. "Everything you have will eventually be mine. Or hers."

I refused to let him see me break. I stood tall, my chin held high.

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. "You're making a scene. Come with me."

He dragged me to a private room and threw a drab, ill-fitting dress at me. "Change," he commanded. "You will not embarrass me tonight."

I was forced to change, to shed my white dress of defiance and don the gray garment of submission. When I returned to the ballroom, I was a shadow of myself.

The ceremony began. My mother stood on the stage, her smile strained. "And now, the moment we've all been waiting for. Azalea Kidd will announce her choice for her future husband."

All eyes were on me. The five candidates were brought to the stage. Alexander, preening and confident. Alaric, Darrius, and Jefferey, with their practiced, hopeful smiles.

And him.

Or rather, an imposter. Alexander, in his meticulous cruelty, had paid a distant, unremarkable cousin of the Goldens to stand in. A decoy to ensure the real Darrian wasn't even an option.

"Azalea," my mother said, her voice trembling slightly. "Who do you choose?"

Alexander took a step forward, ready to claim his prize.

"My choice," I said, my voice quiet but clear, "is not on this stage."

The crowd murmured, confused. The bachelors looked at me, their smiles faltering. Alexander's face darkened.

Then, the main doors of the ballroom swung open.

A man stood there, silhouetted against the light of the hallway. He was tall, dressed in a sharp black suit, his presence commanding the attention of the entire room.

It was Darrian Golden. The real one.

My heart hammered against my ribs. My Darrian.

I didn't hesitate. I walked off the stage, my eyes locked on him. I ignored the gasps, the whispers, my mother's frantic call of my name.

I walked straight up to him, the man I had despised my whole life, the man who was my only true ally.

I stopped in front of him, looked up into his surprised, questioning eyes, and said, my voice ringing with a strength I didn't know I possessed, "I choose you, Darrian Golden. I want to marry you."